Left Behind (A Dramione Romance)

Conflicted

Hermione stood staring at the door for several moments after Draco left.

He hates me?  She thought, her mouth turning to a frown. She didn't like how that thought made her chest ache.

Why the hell do you care if he hates you?  She scolded herself, trying to loosen the tightness in her chest with a large steadying breath.This is DRACO MALFOY. He was right, you were being stupid comforting him.

Even as the voice in her head screamed at her for being so stupid she still found herself mentally circling the same response over and over again:

But he...needed me

The angry voice in her head seemed almost shocked that she dared think such a thing.

That's the most stupid thought you have ever had, it told her.

Hermione turned away from the door and looked around the room.

"What am I doing here?" she asked the empty space around her. "Why am I still here?"

She was disgusted with herself.

You should have escaped already, that angry voice inside said. Now look where you are. You were in bed with that Ferret and you wanted him.

No, my body responded to him there is a huge difference, She thought defensively.

"I did NOT want him," she said aloud as if speaking would make it true. "We are just clearly chemically comparable and sleeping next to someone who is pheromone-attractive to you induced a physical reaction on both sides. That's all it was," she reasoned.

Then explain the dream, her mind challenged snidely.

Hermione covered her face rubbing at her eyes with the backs of her palms.

Why had she dreamed of him? Why?

"Arrgh!" she yelled and grabbed a pillow off of the bed throwing it against the wall.

It hit with a soft, less than satisfying thump, and fell to the floor.

The lackluster impact had Hermione's blood boiling further.

She was mad at herself, mad at Draco for being such a pig-headed pureblood idiot, mad at Harry and Ron for not rescuing her already and mad at the world for being so messed up in the first place.

Why hadn't they come yet?

Why hadn't her friends rescued her?

Didn't they care that she was here being tortured every day? Did they think she was dead?

They certainly won't think you're dead after that photo, she thought to herself and shuddered.

Hermione remembered the pain...and then she remembered how it could have been so much worse...she thought about the kitchen and the conversation she had overheard between Snape and Draco-the conversation Draco still had no idea she had been awake to listen to.

Hermione looked down at her hands. She couldn't remember ever really examining her hands before. Her eyes followed the gentle slope of her fingers down to the oval tips, the little notch by her knuckle of her middle finger on her right hand, that had formed from hours of sitting, gripping a quill and writing.

Hermione had never really valued her hands before...she had never given them much thought. They had always just been there, serving her and helping her get through the day, and now as she looked down at them she realized just how valuable they were to her. She did everything with her hands.